The Hardest Choice?
by Jenova2005
Summary: **IMPORTANT** I started this story in 2005 and sadly had to put it on hold due to events in my life. It's always been in the back of my mind, begging to be written properly. So here I am! To read the new version, please go to / gypsyraeyven
1. Silence Is Golden

A girl's scream ripped through the silence. It was a scream of sheer agony.

Harry whipped around, startled. "What the heck…?" His wide eyes stared blindly into the darkness that enclosed him.

The scream echoed all around, almost hanging in the air, before fading slowly away. He held his breath, listening. His heart pounding in his head almost drowned it out.

It was impossible to tell from which direction it had originated, it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Holding his arms out in front, he edged forward, groping around, looking for something - anything - that would help him to get his bearings.

But there was nothing.

He bent down to touch the floor. It felt cold, like stone. He dropped to his knees and began to crawl.

Minutes passed. Still nothing.

Where_was _he?

A soft whisper in his ear made him freeze.

"The Boy Who Lived..." Then a chuckle.

Harry turned his head slowly, a feeling of dread welling inside him. "Who's there?"

The chuckle grew louder. "...crawling..."

"Who's there!"

"...to_me!_ " The chuckle suddenly erupted into hard, cold laughter.

Again, the girl screamed. It sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "I said,_'Who's there?'_damn you!"

But by now Harry knew the answer. The scar on his forehead was burning.

He scrambled to his feet, searching his pockets for the hundredth time. It was futile. For some inexplicable reason his wand was not with him, and somehow he sensed it was gone forever.

The scream subsided into wracking sobs, but the laughter persisted.

Harry lunged wildly in one direction, then the other before losing his balance and falling on his backside. "Stop it!" he yelled, gripping his head and pulling at his hair.

"HA…HA…HA…HAAAAAA…HA...HA…HAAA…HA…HA…HAAAAAAAA"

It was becoming unbearable.

"HA…HA…HA…HAAAAAA…HAA…HA…HA…HAAAA…HAAAA…HA…HAA…HAAAA…"

He covered his ears with his hands, pressing hard, but it penetrated effortlessly, filling his head, becoming an entity that twisted and writhed and tore at his mind. A trickle of blood ran down his left hand.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing pain and curled up into a ball on the floor.

Then, abruptly, it ceased.

In the overwhelming silence that followed, Harry heard the whisper of the voice again.

**HIS **voice.

"Come…Witness The Breaking…"

Then the incoherent, barely audible girl's voice mumbled, "No…You mustn't…"

With growing horror, it was Harry's turn to scream.

"HERMIONE...! _NOOOO!_"

The rasp of a curtain being drawn back was followed by the appearance of a light from beside Ron's bed.

Other curtains were pulled back and from all around the room came muffled voices.

Harry was sat bolt upright in his bed, his black hair a ruffled mess and a sheen of sweat on his face.

Ron struggled from his duvet and padded over barefoot, yawning.

Someone nearby mumbled, "It's just Potter having one of his nightmares...", and grumbling people re-drew curtains around their beds.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked quietly, sitting on the end of Harry's bed.

Harry looked at him. Then he touched a hand to his left ear. His fingers came back smeared with blood.

Ron's eyes widened in the dim light. "Blimey...What happened?"

Harry stared at his fingers in silence.

Digging around in his pyjama pockets Ron produced a tissue. He offered it to him.

But Harry didn't notice. He'd turned and was fumbling under his pillow. His fingers closed over his wand and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

He threw his sheets back and got up. "We have to check on Hermione," he told Ron, as he popped his glasses on askew, and snatched up his scarlet dressing gown embroidered with the golden Gryffindor lion.

"Why?" Ron asked, standing up.

But Harry was already halfway to the door. Ron grabbed his own dressing gown and hurried after him, down the stairs to the deserted common room.

Before Harry could cross to the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories, Ron grabbed his arm. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Harry mumbled. He turned towards Ron. His face flickered with shadows from the candles in their wall sconces that lit the room. "I just had another nightmare."

Ron grinned wryly. "I kind of guessed that..." Then he frowned. "Hang on, what do you mean by another one? How many have you had?"

Harry shook his head impatiently. "None before tonight. But remember last year? Those dreams I had about Voldemort, when I could see what he was doing?"

Ron nodded.

"Well this one felt just like those. Real. Like I was there." He turned and strode over to the stairs.

Ron followed. "What does this have to do with Hermione?"

There was no answer.

"Harry?" Ron prompted.

Sighing, Harry stopped. "She was there, in the dream."

"And?"

Harry turned to Ron again. His eyes were shadowed as he spoke. "Voldemort had her. He...he was...she..." He drew a ragged breath. "She was screaming in agony. It was horrible..."

Ron glanced up the stairs and swallowed. "I'm sure she's ok," he said, but without much conviction.

Harry held up his bloodstained hand. "Voldemort did_that _to me in my dream. Are you still so certain Hermione's all right?"

Ron gazed at Harry's hand fearfully. "How are you going to get to the girls' rooms though?" he asked, somewhat shakily. "You know as well as I do that the minute you tread on that bottom stair you'll end up on your back on the floor." The boys had learnt that particular lesson the hard way.

Before Harry could answer, the Fat Lady's portrait on the wall suddenly swung open and a small brown-haired girl scrambled through. She blinked in surprise when she saw Harry and Ron looking at her.

Then blushed when she spotted Ron's prefect badge and recognised him.

"I...I..." she stammered but Ron hastily waved away her explanation. He glanced at Harry. Harry nodded.

Ron made his way over to the girl. She took a cautious step back.

"You're a second year aren't you?" he asked her. She nodded mutely.

"Do you know which dormitory is Hermione Granger's?"

The girl nodded again.

"Can you check that she's ok for us?" Harry interjected.

The girl eyed him suspiciously. Harry sighed. People were still wary of him, even now.

Ron silenced him with a glance. He turned back to the girl. "We just want to know that she's ok."

"Why?" she asked, a mixture of confusion and curiosity on her face.

Harry moved forward. "Will you just do it?" he asked, but Ron spoke over him.

"Listen, if you do this for us, I'll 'forget' that you left Gryffindor tower after hours…" He folded his arms to appear more authoritative than he looked, stood there in his robe and pyjamas, with his hair all over the place.

The girl bit her lip uncertainly, and then shrugged. "Guess I don't have much choice. Ok, I won't be long."

Harry watched her disappear up the stairs then started pacing the floor.

Ron leant against the fireplace and observed him. "This dream's really unnerved you hasn't it?"

Harry continued pacing. "It wasn't just a dream. There's more to it than that, I'm sure of it."

"Like what?"

"I wish I knew."

Ron pursed his lips thoughtfully. "…Maybe you should speak to Dumbledore?"

"Why?"

"Well, maybe he can help…"

Harry snorted. "Don't tell me, by getting Snape to teach me Occlumency again? _Great...(!)_"

"Snape's a member of the Order too, no matter what we think of him. Dumbledore trusts him…That must count for something." Ron ignored the dubious glance that Harry shot him. He couldn't quite believe it himself – had he just defended_Snape_, of all people?

"Anyway," he continued, hurriedly,"Sirius told you to go to Dumbledore when you had the other dreams, but you didn't, and look what happened…" Ron let his words trail off as he realised what he had said. Tonight wasthe night for putting his foot in it apparently."Sorry mate. You know I'm not saying that what happened was your fault…"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron it didn't matter but he stopped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs again. Ron came to stand beside him.

The dark-haired girl re-appeared, slightly out of breath.

"Well?" Harry demanded.

She shot him an indignant look and pointedly addressed Ron. "She's sat in her bed reading a book, and she seems fine."

Ron smiled at her. "That's typical of Hermione! What did you say?"

"I told her I was looking for my little sister's dorm."

"Good thinking...Thanks," he said, as the girlheaded back up the stairs.

Harry turned away in open relief.

"So it_was_ just a dream then." Ron dropped into the nearest armchair.

Harry took the one opposite. He shook his head. "Like I said, I think there's more to it. What about the blood? That was real enough."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe there's a simple explanation."

Harry frowned. "No...Somehow I don't think so." He rubbed his scar subconsciously. "I know one thing though. I can't just dismiss something like this again, not after last year…"

* * *

Half an hour later, Ron retreated to his bed. 

Harry remained where he sat. He kept closing his eyes to think things through, but each time his head filled with intolerable pain.

And the memory of Hermione's tortured screams.

He knew sleep tonight would be impossible…


	2. Not Like Hermione

Harryawoke on a ship the next morning, sailing through stormy seas.

He yawned and opened a bleary eye. A blurred face was peering at him, framed with a mop of brown tangles. He blinked.

He wasn't on a ship at all. He was still sat in the armchair where Ron had left him, and Hermione was shaking him roughly.

He wondered fleetingly what he'd been dreaming about, but he couldn't remember. He only knew it hadn't involved Voldemort though, and for that he was thankful.

Hermione knelt back, sitting on her heels. "What are you doing down here?" she whispered. "I've heard Ron talks in his sleep but it can't be that bad!" She laughed lightly.

Harry stretched as much as the chair would allow. "Couldn't sleep," he mumbled.

Hermione handed him his glasses. "You were almost sat on them."

"Why are you whispering?" Harry asked, taking the glasses from her.

"Because it's still early, and also because of him…" She pointed to a nearby chair. Peeves the poltergeist was snoring soundly on it.

Harry blinked again. "I didn't know ghosts slept."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He isn't sleeping, not really. He's drunk. Can't you smell it?"

Now that she mentioned it, he noticed the strong smell of..._whisky?_ "Where would he get whisky?" Harry frowned.

"Filch, I bet. Which would explain why he's hiding in here." Hermione leaned in closer to Harry. "Don't know about you but I'd rather not disturb him. Peeves sober is bad enough. A drunken one? That's something I'd rather_not_ experience."

Harry couldn't help but agree, although he grumbled to Hermione that she could have left him to sleep as well.

He expected a biting comment back from her, but instead she blushed. "I, er, just wanted some company."

Harry looked at her in surprise. Then he looked again, more closely.

Hermione's hair hadn't been combed, it was knotted much more than usual. Her face was extremely pale, with none of its rosy glow. And dark shadows underlined her dull eyes.

"You look awful," he whispered.

She pulled a face at him. "I couldn't sleep either," she admitted.

A knawing started in Harry's stomach. "Why not?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione shrugged.

Then, abruptly, she stood up. "Do you want to get some fresh air?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Let me just get changed first," he said.

"Ok, I'll wait for you in the corridor."

Harry changed quickly, not bothering to be quiet in the process. His heart was thumping.

Something was up with Hermione and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was related to his dream the previous night. It couldn't just be coincidence that she'd had a bad night too, could it?

He ran his hands through his unruly hair, managing to tame it a little, then slipped out.

The Fat Lady grumbled at being disturbed twice so early, but even she whispered, so as not to wake Peeves. Harry suppressed a grin at her pink hairnet, which matched her pink dressing gown. And her pink slippers. Not to mention her pink lipstick (just in case Nearly Headless Nick floated by), which had smudged a little.

He and Hermione made their way down through the school and out into the grounds. It promised to be a lovely day.

A light mist hung over the lake and pale rays of morning sunlight burst through the cotton wool clouds above.

They sat beneath a giant oak tree and rested their backs against the knobbly bark.

Hermione sighed.

Harry glanced sideways at her. It had sounded like a sigh of relief, instead of perhaps contentment.

He frowned. It was really starting to worry him. What if something _had _happened to her last night?

He considered asking her again why she'd had problems sleeping, but he knew she wouldn't tell him. Instead, he found himself ruminating over a dozen possibilities.

He didn't even realise when she spoke to him. "Sorry, I was miles away."

She smiled and he noticed how it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I said why couldn't you sleep last night?"

Harry stared at her. Should he tell her? Then he'd know if something had happened. But what if it was nothing, and she really did just have a bad night? He didn't want her to start worrying for nothing.

So he just smiled back and joked, "You really have no idea how loud Ron's sleep talking is."

Hermione giggled and leant her head on Harry's shoulder. She closed her eyes and they sat in silence, until the sounds of students moving around Hogwarts filtered down to them.

Harry thought at first she had fallen asleep but just as he was about to wake her, she shifted and sat up. "Guess we should make a move…"

Now Harry was convinced there was something wrong. Hermione, reluctant to start the school day?

Normally she was the first one up, first to finish breakfast, and first in the classroom.

Well, almost.

This really wasn't like her at all. He decided to speak to Ron about it.

He struggled to his feet and held a hand out to Hermione. She took it with a grin and he pulled her up.

* * *

Harry didn't get a chance to speak to Ron until lunch. They told Hermione they had a Divination assignment to finish, so she went down to the Great Hall alone.

Harry and Ron retreated to the Gryffindor common room. Luckily it was empty, although it still smelt a little of whisky.

As soon as the portrait closed behind them, Harry turned to Ron.

But Ron was quicker. "What's wrong with Hermione?" he asked.

Harry nodded grimly. "You noticed too?"

Ron ran a hand through his red hair. It had a habit of getting in his eyes, usually while trying to cast a spell causing it to hit the wrong target. Hermione had been on at him for a while to get it cut. "She barely paid any attention in Arithmancy," he said. "And in Potions I think even Snape was wondering what was up."

"She said she didn't sleep last night." Harry's face was sombre. "Ron, she looked bloody awful this morning."

"We should get her to see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry looked at Ron bemused. He'd thought his friend was thinking along the same lines he was. "No Ron, that's not what I meant. What if it's something to do with my dream last night?" He thought hard. "What if she opened up to it somehow and shared it?"

Ron looked doubtful. "Why would that happen?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's significant somehow. I'm starting to think you might be right about talking to Dumbledore. I don't want to risk anything happening to Hermione.

Ron glanced at his best friend knowingly but didn't comment. Instead he shook his head. "I think we might be over-reacting."

Harry stared at him. "But it was your suggestion!"

"I know. But let's face it. You are allowed to have normal dreams like the rest of us."

"How a dream about Voldemort could ever be called normal escapes me!" Harry scoffed.

"Yeah, but people tend to dream about the things they fear."

Harry glared at his friend. "I do not fear Voldemort," he said quietly. "You're the one that's too scared to speak his name."

Harry regretted that immediately.

The Weasley's were an old wizarding family and had every right to fear Voldemort. They'd had to live with the threat of him. Harry had grown up with muggles, and hadn't even known he was a wizard until he was 10.

"Sorry Ron," he apologised.

Ron shrugged. "No, you're right. I guess you do have less to fear than the rest of us. After all, you_have_ survived five encounters with him already. Why should you be scared?" He couldn't keep the trace of bitterness from his voice.

Harry stared down at his feet. "Maybe that's why I_should_ fear him..." he muttered.

There was a brief silence.

Ron was the first to break it. "Look, let's wait. If you have another dream, then we can speak to Dumbledore. Agreed?"

Harry thought it over for a minute and then nodded. "Agreed."

Ron frowned. "But maybe we_should_ talk to Hermione about this. If she did share your dream then we'll know something strange is going on."

"Don't you think I already thought about that? But I don't want her to worry unnecessarily."

Ron pondered this. "Yeah, but if she is in danger, we should tell her."

Harry paced up and down. "Ok. Maybe you're right. But let's wait until tomorrow. One more night can't hurt, and we can see if I do have another dream tonight."

Ron nodded and looked at his watch. "Come on then, we might have time for some lunch after all."

* * *

However, during Charms that afternoon, something happened to change their plans.

Professor Flitwick had asked each of them to request a charm that they would like to learn. Nothing too complicated, just something that would benefit the classmate of their choice. It was supposed to be a little bit of fun before they began studying for their NEWTs in earnest.

Hermione chose a hair taming charm for Ron, while Parvati Patil decided that a memory charm was what Neville needed.

Dean Thomas asked if he could choose a teacher and promptly requested a charm for a bottle of re-filling shampoo for Snape.

When everyone had stopped laughing, Seamus Finnigan spoke up.

"I think I'll choose a sleeping charm," he announced. "For Harry Potter." He grinned, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Or maybe he's more in need of a love charm." He turned to Harry. "Did you enjoy your dream?" Then he winked at Hermione. "Harry was shouting your name all night, you know."

Harry had turned as red as a tomato but he held his composure well. He ignored all the giggles and shot Seamus a warning look. Seamus immediately turned away, chuckling.

When Harry glanced at Hermione, she was staring at him. 'Bloody Finnigan!' he thought.

After the lesson, Harry pulled Hermione to one side. He was meaning to explain, but she simply said, "You saw it."

Harry frowned. "Saw what?"

For once Ron was a step ahead. "The dream?" he guessed.

Hermione nodded.

Harry's stomach sank. "Oh god, Hermione," he whispered.

There were tears in her eyes. He put his hand awkwardly on her shoulder to comfort her but she stepped away from his touch. "What exactly did you see? I looked for you, but I could only hear you."

Harry nodded. "Me too."

"So you didn't see…everything?" she asked quietly.

"What do you mean, everything?"

Hermione shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't want to say, more that she couldn't find the words. The tears began to fall silently.

Harry and Ron looked at each other helplessly.

Then she took a deep steadying breath and slowly lifted her shirt and jumper. Her eyes never left Harry's.

Harry was horrified. He looked like he was about to vomit. Ron stepped around him, totally shocked.

Criss-crossing the whole of Hermione's stomach were long red welts, and even worse, a couple of puckered scars, weeping thick yellow pus…


	3. Desperate Measures

Hermione glanced at Harry as he and Ron propelled her at pace towards McGonagall's office.

He hadn't spoken to her since she'd shown them her wounds and she had the distinct impression he was trying to avoid her eye. Ron, meanwhile, still had the look of a deer caught in a car's headlights.

She sighed inwardly. She had done the right thing hadn't she? Maybe she should have done as she'd planned and gone to Dumbledore on her own first…

McGonagall wasn't in her office. Harry swore in frustration. Now what?

"If yer lookin' for McGonagall she aint 'ere." Filch had been lurking down the corridor.

"Who else would we be looking for in her office?" Harry replied caustically

"I dunno, you tell me." Filch grinned all over his grubby face. "Or maybe yer'd like to explain to Dumbledore. Wonder what the punishment for nosin' round a professor's office is…"

"Fine," Harry snapped. "Take us to Dumbledore. That's who we want to see anyway."

Filch shrugged and shuffled off. "'Fraid I can't do that. He aint 'ere either. But I'll be lettin' him know, mark my words."

Harry swore again and thumped the door, partly through irritation at Filch, but also at the news that neither Dumbledore or McGonagall were in the school. How long would they be? This was urgent.

He looked at Hermione for the first time in the last twenty minutes. She was pale and drawn.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

She nodded.

"You aren't in pain?"

"No, actually it doesn't hurt at all." Hermione sounded surprised.

Harry frowned. Hagrid wasn't around either, he was away on 'school business'. He'd refused to tell them anything else about it, quite a feat for Hagrid, so whatever it was must be important.

Who else could they turn to?

At that moment, Harry was shoved aside by a Slytherin boy, who pushed his way through them without a word of apology. Harry started after him, on the brink of saying something.

But then a horrible realisation dawned on him. It made him feel ill. There was only one person he could think of who knew as much as McGonagall and Dumbledore. But it wasn't anyone Harry wanted to go to.

He bit his lip. He didn't know that he could trust this person, in fact from everything he knew, it was the _last_ person he would trust. But anyone else would ask too many awkward questions.

"Harry?" Ron asked, finding his voice at last. "What are we going to do? Hermione looks ready to faint."

Ron was right. She was as white as a ghost. That made his mind up.

Harry turned abruptly and headed down the stairs, Ron stumbling after him supporting Hermione. Outside the Great Hall, he headed straight for the corridor and the stairs down to the basement.

"Where are you going?" Ron panted. Harry didn't answer. He passed the Slytherin common room, and Firenze's Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and proceeded down to the room where Potions lessons were held.

"Snape?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Harry stopped and turned to him. "Do you have a better idea?"

"But why Snape?"

"Because he's a member of the Order, like you said. He knows about my other dreams. And next to McGonagall, he knows the most about what's going on with Voldemort."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think this is a good idea…" she began.

But Harry was already knocking loudly on the door. He went in without waiting for an answer.

Snape didn't look up from his desk. He continued writing with his eagle-feather quill.

"Go away," he said curtly.

"We can't do that," Harry said.

That voice made Snape raise his eyes. "Well, well...Potter. And to what do I owe the…honour…of this unexpected visit?"

Harry took a deep breath, determined to ignore Snape's jibes. "We need to talk to you."

Snape eyed him suspiciously. "You? Need to talk to me?" He seemed stumped for words. He looked back to his papers. "Well I have no need whatsoever to talk to you. Leave."

"My dreams have started again," Harry pressed on, lowering his voice so that even Ron had to strain to hear him.

That got Snape's attention. He glanced at Hermione. She was leaning heavily against Ron.

"What's wrong with her?" Snape demanded.

"She was in my dream-" Harry began. But Snape silenced him with his hand. He waved his wand and a silencing spell settled around the room. Ron swallowed uncomfortably.

"Continue." Snape stood and approached Hermione.

Harry briefly explained about his dream, and Hermione's wounds.

"A chair, Weasley," Snape ordered. Ron scrambled across a desk to get one. Hermione sank into it gratefully.

"You say the wounds don't hurt?" Snape asked Hermione. She shook her head. "Let me see them."

Hermione's eyes opened wide in horror.

"Hey, hang on a minute!" Ron protested, but Snape barked at him to be quiet. "I can assure you, Miss Granger, that I have no interest in anything other than the wounds," he told her impatiently.

Hermione glanced at Harry. Reluctantly he nodded. Hermione looked at the floor and lifted a little of her shirt, just enough to show most of the scars.

Snape looked grave when he turned away. "Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall will be back shortly. In the meantime, I suggest you take Miss Granger to the hospital wing. Those wounds are infected."

Ron made a hasty move to leave. Harry helped Hermione up and then whispered to Ron to take her. "I'll catch up with you later."

Ron looked from him to Snape.

"Just go, I'll be ok," Harry assured him.

Ron didn't bother to argue. He just wanted to get out of there. He disliked being around Snape without a roomful of classmates as a buffer.

The door closed with a thud.

Harry turned back to Snape, who had resumed his writing. "Well?" he demanded.

Snape looked up, one eyebrow raised derisively at him. "Well what Potter?"

"Do you know what's going on? Is it the same thing as before?"

Snape eyed him through his long greasy hair. He pursed his lips. "I don't believe it is Potter."

"Well what is it then?"

"I think Professor Dumbledore would be best answering that." Snape indicated the door.

Harry ignored him. "Do you know what The Breaking is?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because that's what Voldemort said. 'Witness the breaking'."

Snape's eyes strayed to the chair where Hermione had sat. He appeared to be frowning. Harry waited for a reply.

"The Breaking…" Snape murmured. "It can't be…"

Then, as if remembering Harry was in the room, he pointed to the door. "Out, Potter, and shut the door."

"But-" Harry began.

"Out!" Snape repeated forcefully.

Harry hesitated before deciding it was best to go. As he closed the door, he chanced a peek back. Snape was sitting with his head in his hands.

Harry's curiosity piqued. What was The Breaking?

And why had it thrown Snape?

* * *

Harry slipped into the hospital wing. He looked around for Hermione and Ron but couldn't see them.

Then Ron's head popped out from behind a curtained off bed at the far end of the room and he beckoned Harry over.

Harry took a chair next to Ron. Hermione was lay on the bed, sleeping.

"Madam Pomfrey gave her a sleep potion," Ron explained. "She says the infection will clear if she has complete rest for a couple of days."

Harry nodded. "She looks a bit better already." Hermione did indeed have a little colour coming back in her cheeks.

Harry relayed to Ron what had happened with Snape. "He knows something, I'm sure of it," he finished.

"The Breaking?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. Voldemort mentioned it in the dream."

"Do you think it has something to do with Hermione?"

Harry shook his head. "It might. It seemed to. And Snape's reaction pointed to that too." He frowned. "I really wish I knew what Snape knows…"

"I guess we'll have to wait until Dumbledore gets back," Ron concluded.

"Not necessarily. There might be something about it in the library." He nodded to Hermione. "She'll be ok here. Let's see what we can find out."

The library was busy with pupils in their NEWT and OWL years. Harry brushed away the fact that he and Ron had done little studying so far. Their NEWTs weren't until next year; they had plenty of time yet.

He and Ron pondered over which section to take. Magical History was a possibility, unlike Muggles and the Wizarding World, which they quickly discounted.

Eventually Harry decided to look in Ritual Magic, while Ron started in the Historical Events in Magical History.

Ron searched for over an hour but found no reference whatsoever to a breaking of any sort. When his eyes began to ache, and his stomach rumbled hungrily he went to search for Harry.

He found him sat at a table reading a large dusty red volume, with yellowing pages and fading fancy script.

"Found something?"

Harry shook his head. "The only mention of a breaking is in regard to the breaking of a magic circle."

"Maybe that's it?"

Harry shook his head doubtfully. "I don't think so." He closed the book with a thump and gazed over towards the restricted section.

Ron read his thoughts. "Another outing for the cloak?"

Harry got up stiffly and stretched. "Looks like it. We'll see what Dumbledore has to say first." He dropped the book he'd been reading onto Madam Pince's desk as they left and headed down for what was left of dinner.

* * *

Ron picked up a spoon and delved hungrily into a serving of apple crumble, sprinkled with cinnamon and drenched in delicious smelling vanilla custard.

Harry watched him. He had no appetite. He just wanted to know what was happening with Hermione and what part his dream had played in it.

He didn't have long to wait. Before Ron had swallowed his first mouthful, young Dennis Creevey approached them. "You're wanted in Dumbledore's office, both of you."

Harry shot up from the table.

Ron followed slowly, somewhat reluctant to leave his dessert. He sighed wistfully. Maybe he could pop down to the kitchens later and ask Dobby if there were any leftovers.

Harry had left the Great Hall by the time Ron caught up with him. They hurried up the stairs to Dumbledore's office where McGonagall was waiting for them. The stone gargoyle leapt aside when she gave the password and the three of them stepped onto the moving spiral staircase.

Snape was stood just inside the cramped and cluttered office, trying to keep a distance between himself and Fawkes, Dumbledore's beautiful phoenix.

Dumbledore himself was seated behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of his face. He motioned for the two boys to sit.

Harry chose not to. He looked from Dumbledore, to Snape, then to McGonagall and back to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stood slowly. "I want to hear about your dream, Mr Potter," he said quietly.

Harry looked at Snape again. "Hasn't he already told you?"

"I want to hear it from you. Please, sit down."

Harry took his seat beside Ron. "Well, as you know, I had a dream last night," he began.

"Was this the first one?" McGonagall broke in. Harry nodded.

"Please continue Mr Potter." Dumbledore started pacing as he listened to Harry. He stopped him when he got to the part about Hermione's wounds.

"Yes," he gazed at Harry over the top of his glasses. "I have visited Miss Granger. Very strange that the wounds give her no pain..." He seemed to ponder this for a moment until Harry interrupted him.

"Professor, do you know what 'The Breaking' is?" He deliberately glanced at Snape from the corner of his eye and felt sure he saw him flinch at the question.

"Hmmm?" Dumbledore gazed at Harry blankly. "What was that? Oh yes, The Breaking. No, it isn't a term I'm familiar with…" And he too glanced at Snape.

Snape certainly seemed uncomfortable. Perhaps for this reason, Dumbledore asked him to fetch Madam Pince. The look of relief on Snape's face as he slipped out was evident.

This intrigued Harry. He planted himself directly in front of Dumbledore. "Snape knows what The Breaking is, doesn't he?"

A silence fell. McGonagall shifted awkwardly, and Dumbledore for the briefest moment seemed lost for words.

"Please Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall. I need to know. I didn't know enough last year, and the only person living that I could call family died because of that."

Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a look. Harry watched them both hopefully.

Then without a word, McGonagall left.

Dumbledore returned to his chair. "I believe you have a lesson starting shortly. Good day to you both."

Ron stood hesitantly.

Harry stepped closer to the desk. "Please Professor. I don't want Hermione to be put at risk because of me."

Dumbledore peered up at him. "I can assure you Mr Potter that Miss Granger's situation is not as a result of something you have done. Or, indeed, haven't done," he added. "Now, on your way…"

Ron pulled Harry away when it was clear he wasn't going to go on his own.

Once they were back in the corridor, Harry swore. He kicked out at the only thing he could, the ugly old gargoyle, and had to leap away as it snarled at him before settling back into stone again. He landed on his back on the floor.

Ron held out a hand to help him up. "Looks like I was right then."

"About what?" Harry grumbled, dusting himself off.

"That it's time your father's cloak was dragged out again…"


	4. The Apostate Magi's Work

Harry and Ron waited until they were sure everyone in their dormitory was asleep before creeping from their beds that night, still fully dressed.

For once, the Fat Lady in her portrait didn't grumble at being disturbed.

Harry suspected it had a lot to do with Nearly Headless Nick wandering through the wall opposite the portrait.

Nick raised a ghostly eyebrow at the two boys but didn't speak as they threw the invisibility cloak over themselves and stole away in the direction of the library.

Behind them they heard the Fat Lady giggling like a little schoolgirl as Nick swept his hat (and by accident, his head) off to her.

The corridors were eerily silent, and Harry wished he had brought the Marauder's map with him. In his haste to get going he had completely let it slip his mind.

Now he and Ron kept peering behind themselves, convinced that they were being stalked by Filch's cat, Mrs Norris.

It was a relief when they slipped into the dark shadowy library.

Clutching tightly at the cloak while Ron held his glowing wand out for light, Harry steered them in the direction of the restricted section.

To both boys' surprise Madam Pince was nowhere in sight.

They stumbled a little awkwardly over the ropes that sectioned the area off and promptly ducked down the first aisle.

Harry threw the cloak off.

"Let's start here and work our way down," he suggested. "We need to be quick. I want to get through as much as we can. If we have to come back every night until we find something, we will."

Ron tucked the cloak under his arm and started on one side, while Harry took the other.

The vast array of books that faced him was quite daunting. And this was only one row.

Harry took a deep breath and reached for the first of many volumes.

He'd barely turned to the second page, however, when Ron clutched his robes and shoved him against the end wall, where they cowered behind the invisibility cloak.

Approaching their aisle was the unmistakeable sound of footsteps.

They seemed to pause at the end of each row, as if someone was looking for something.

Harry held his breath, adjusting the cloak here and there until Ron hissed at him to stay still.

A small pool of light had bobbed into view ahead of them. It stopped. So did the footsteps.

A stray thread on the cloak tickled Harry's nose. He had to fight the urge to sneeze.

The light began to grow, and the footsteps grew louder and nearer. A shadowed figure was approaching.

The figure stopped beside a little table, handily situated halfway down the aisle, and turned to place an object on it.

Harry caught a glimpse of her face in the light of her lantern.

It was Professor McGonagall.

He drew a sharp breath as she looked straight at him, her eyes not quite focusing on him.

She placed her hand on the object and whispered in a low voice:

"Something you may find useful, Mr Potter." Her face wrinkled slightly in a half smile. "I expect to find it on my desk by the end of tomorrow."

Without another word she whipped around. Her footsteps echoed after her again as she left.

Harry and Ron didn't move for a while. They just stared at each other hesitantly.

Eventually Harry slipped out from under the cloak. He looked around cautiously as he approached the table.

When he was satisfied he was alone, he gazed down at the thick leather bound book with its gold clasp that McGonagall had left behind.

Its title read:

'Black Magick Forbidden in the Dark Wizarding World'.

* * *

Harry and Ron sat on the edge of Harry's bed, the big brown book between them.

They surveyed it at length, both of them reluctant to open it.

Today was Saturday, and the majority of the older pupils were spending the day in Hogsmeade. This suited Harry and Ron, who had retreated to their empty dormitory to make a start on the book.

After several more minutes, Harry reached for it.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "Sitting here, staring at it, won't help Hermione."

He hoisted it onto his lap, the gold leaf lettering on the cover glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Since when did dark magic have its own code of practise?" Harry pondered aloud.

Ron's voice was almost a whisper. "Harry, do you think we should be doing this? It's a book of black magic that's forbidden even amongst dark wizards…"

"That's what the cover says," Harry agreed, dryly.

"But imagine what must be inside," Ron continued, ignoring Harry's sarcasm. "This is the worst of the very worst!"

Harry glowered at him. "All the more reason then, if Hermione is being subjected to anything that's in here."

He looked down at the book. "Anyway, I'm sure McGonagall wouldn't have given it to us if it is as bad as what you think."

They were Harry's words but he didn't believe them any more than Ron.

He released the clasp with a twist and slowly opened the hard protective cover.

The book was obviously old, yet the pages had retained their crisp ivory appearance and the neat italicised handwriting inside was as black as the day it was scratched into the paper.

Harry noted how even the authors had been reluctant to use their real names, the book being credited to the 'Apostate Magi'.

He turned the title page over and commenced reading.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry took over from Ron again.

Ron had been right. The spells detailed in the book were all shocking to read.

They'd already learned how some dark wizards forcefully used white wizards to complete a magic circle, murdering them afterwards in the most horrific ways so they wouldn't betray them.

And how Muggles had been kidnapped by dark wizards and held solely for the purpose of having untried spells cast upon them, the results being either lingering, tortuous deaths, or sudden demisements of mind blowing proportions.

Quite literally in one incident, where a young doctor from Reading had had his mind probed with a new spell intended for mind control.

His head had imploded on itself from the force exerted.

Harry was about a third of the way through the book and becoming quite bleary eyed, when the words 'The Breaking' leapt off the page at him.

His eyes skipped back a few lines to make sure he hadn't missed anything before he started reading more carefully.

Shortly after, Ron returned from a trip to the toilet.

"Want to swap again?" he asked, although he wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of delving back into that monstrosity.

Harry didn't answer.

Ron noted how his friend was poring over the book intently. "Found something mate?"

Harry waved for his friend to be quiet.

Ron perched next to him and began reading over his shoulder. It took him a while to reach the relevant part.

**Beings of all forms have quested for the secrets of immortality for as long as history remembers.**

**Whilst many have tried and failed to discover a way of attaining the ultimate goal, in the mid-16th century one young woman did just that. **

**Morvenna Fairfax, born into a family with a long history of black magic use, and considered to be one of the most feared witches of her generation, dedicated most of her brief adult life to achieving her dream.**

**Shortly before her 27th year, she performed 'The Breaking'. Her subjects were a young Muggle couple and their unborn child.**

**The Breaking, as implemented by Fairfax, involves the merging of a spirit from the underworld with the physical form of a foetus.**

**The spirit will, in effect, smother the soul of the baby, leaving behind the shell of the body, which becomes its host.**

**In the Fairfax case, had Muggle soldiers of King Edward VI not received a tip-off and intervened, it is without doubt that immediately following its birth the child would have killed its mother, living off her until such a time as it could fend for itself.**

**However, as it was deprived of such apparently essential nourishment, it died just days later.**

**It remains to be proven if the child would have survived to attain a state of immortality, and many more questions also remain unanswered.**

**Fairfax was immediately arrested and burned at the steak for crimes of witchcraft.**

**Her actions caused such an uprising in the Muggle community against magic users that anyone even suspected of partaking in such an activity was burned, often without any recognisable trial.**

**Among the magic world she was reviled, and even dark wizards of the time chose to ban any re-working of her immortality spell, and to sentence to immediate death any witch or wizard that tried to do so.**

**It is with extreme risk to ourselves that we include it in this tome.**

Harry slammed the book shut. He'd read enough.

Ron was lost for words. He stared at an invisible speck on the floor.

Harry's hands were shaking. His skin was cold and clammy and a pain tugged at his heart with every thudding beat.

Then without a word he flew from the bed to the door.

"Harry!"

Ron's voice sounded distant in his head. He didn't stop, or even look back.

The Fat Lady swung open faster than she ever had before, as if afraid he would plough straight through her if she didn't.

Students in the corridors and on the stairs jumped out of his way as he stormed past.

He didn't see the shocked looks they exchanged at the murderous expression on his face, or the way they shrank back as his flashing green eyes bore right through them.

The only thought in his head was that he wanted answers.

And he was going to get them.

Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk in her neat tidy office, hands clasped in front of her.

It was almost as if she was expecting him.

Her eyes were full of emotion as she lifted her head to look at him. She nodded and said:

"Follow me, Potter."

Within minutes he was stood in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes flew over and landed on his shoulder, rubbing his feathered head against his cheek.

Harry turned his face to him. He didn't know how, but Fawkes always managed to make him feel calmer, peaceful.

Dumbledore appeared to be waiting for Harry to speak first.

He took a deep breath in an effort to remain calm. "What's going on Professor?"

Dumbledore beckoned for the book. Ron stepped forward and handed it to him.

Harry hadn't even been aware of Ron's presence.

"This book is over 200 years old. It is the only one in existence, and the only one to mention in any detail The Breaking."

"You told me yesterday that you hadn't heard of The Breaking," Harry shot accusingly.

"I said it wasn't a term I was familiar with. Which was the truth."

"You should read your own books, Professor," Harry spat at him.

Dumbledore patted the book to his chest. "This, my child, is not mine."

He surveyed them, his wrinkled, bearded face serious. "You have read the entry on Morvenna Fairfax?"

Both boys nodded.

Dumbledore's face suddenly looked every bit as old as he probably was. He raised his half-moon spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We," he glanced to Professor McGonagall by the door, "believe that Voldemort is attempting something similar."

When neither boy spoke, he continued.

"Tom Riddle's maternal ancestors can be traced back to an Archibald Fairfax, a close cousin of Morvenna Fairfax. It is more than possible that a record of the techniques she employed that fateful night have remained hidden in the family annals…and that Voldemort has uncovered them."

Harry leaned forward and grabbed the back of a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. He leaned on it heavily and looked up at the Hogwarts headmaster.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

McGonagall moved forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Nobody needed to say anything. He already knew what they were reluctant to voice.

He gripped the chair hard, his knuckles turning white.

His head was full of her.

Hermione cheering him on at Quidditch.

Hermione lecturing him on the extensive uses of snortweed.

Hermione thumping Draco Malfoy.

Hermione scolding him for not starting a Potion's essay until the night before it was due.

But most of all, Hermione just smiling at him.

That final image burned in his mind as though seared there with a brand.

"How…?" His voice was a hoarse croak.

"By infiltrating her dreams. I'm afraid that we know no more beyond that." Dumbledore's tone was regretful.

"Why did I see it in my dream?"

"Because Voldemort wanted you to."

"Why?"

Dumbledore turned away at this question. McGonagall answered for him.

"Because he knows it will weaken you."

Harry frowned at her.

"Voldemort cannot achieve the immortality he desires," she explained, "while you, the only wizard more powerful than he is, lives."

Harry's numb stupor was beginning to subside, to be replaced with a furious anger.

"So he wants to be rid of me?" he raged. "Why doesn't he just come for me? Why use Hermione like this?" He glared at McGonagall and Dumbledore.

"Hermione is…necessary…for his plans." McGonagall couldn't meet his eyes.

"Why her?" Harry yelled.

"Because," Dumbledore answered softly, "There's no better way to destroy someone than from within." His blue eyes met Harry's green ones.

"By hurting the person they care for most…"

Harry looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall.

Beside him, Ron shuffled his feet and pretended to examine the sleeve of his jumper with great interest.

_The person he cared for most? Hermione?_

Before Harry could explore that thought any further, Dumbledore spoke again.

"As we have said, beyond what we have told you we cannot help."

Harry's attention snapped back. "How am I supposed to help her? How am I supposed to stop Voldemort? Tell me that!"

"We do not know," Dumbledore reiterated. "However, there_ is _someone who can help you. Someone who, perhaps, can tell you what you need to know."

He pressed the book into Harry's hands. "I think you may want to return that to its rightful owner." He lowered his voice to a whisper that only Harry could hear.

"And may you have more luck with him than we did…"


	5. Confrontation

For the second time that day, Harry tore through the corridors of Hogwarts like a man possessed.

He felt like he was a rugby ball, being passed from one person to another and back again.

But then, wasn't that how it had always been since finding out he was a wizard?

For just once, he would like someone to give him all the answers he wanted.

He didn't think this was going to be that time though.

In a matter of minutes he'd reached his destination, with just one casualty on the way.

A young Ravenclaw boy had rounded a corner at the exact moment Harry did in the opposite direction, and he'd ended up with a bloody nose.

Harry made a mental note to find the boy later and apologise.

He didn't bother to knock this time; he could see a dark figure through the glass. He swung the door open and approached the desk, dropping the book down with a thud onto a pile of papers.

Snape stared at it in silence.

The door clicked to a shut.

It was several minutes until he spoke. "Where did you get this?"

Harry was taken aback. He had assumed that McGonagall and Dumbledore had shown it to him with Snape's permission.

"Where did you get this, Potter?" Snape repeated, his voice calm and controlled.

_Too _controlled.

"I… er…" Harry tried to think fast. Should he just tell the truth?

In one swift movement, Snape stood and leaned across his desk. He grabbed Harry by his robes, pulling them tight at his neck. "I said, where did you get it?"

"Dumbledore!" Harry managed to gasp, Snape's fist pressing against his windpipe making it difficult to breathe.

Snape's beady black eyes bore into his for a moment, then he pushed Harry away roughly. He stumbled into a table piled high with Potions essays, sending half of them tumbling to the floor.

"That's _Professor _Dumbledore," Snape barked. He leaned heavily on his desk.

Harry pulled his robes straight.

"I need your help…sir," he began, cringing inside. He'd never expected to ever be begging Severus Snape for anything, let alone help.

But if this was what it was going to take, then it would be a small price to pay.

Either way, he wasn't leaving until he'd learned something of use.

Snape laughed sarcastically. "Again, Potter? Twice in two days… I assure you, I'm not worthy of such high esteem from the 'Boy Who Lived'!"

This wasn't going to be easy.

"Professor Dumbledore's told me that he thinks Voldemort is attempting to replicate Morvenna Fairfax's immortality spell."

"Don't say that name!" Snape hissed, turning sharply.

Harry found himself talking to Snape's broad back. "If _Voldemort_-", he emphasised the name deliberately, feeling it gave him an edge over Snape. "-if he's using Hermione, I need to know how, and what I can do to stop him. Apparently, you're the only one that can help me…"

Harry waited, not sure what reaction to expect.

Snape's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Oh, I bet hearing that made your day…" He barely hid his mirth.

Harry decided that saying he'd rather ask Aragog, an enormous man-eating spider, for help wouldn't be a good idea. He took a deep breath.

"Please…Professor. If you can tell me anything…?"

He was glad he'd told Ron to sit with Hermione in the hospital wing. He really didn't want anyone to witness this act of grovelling to Snape.

"Why?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Why what?"

Snape sighed impatiently. "Why do you want to stop the Dark Lord?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't anticipated a question like that. "Well…because he's Voldemort. What other reason do I need? If he's trying to reach immortality he has to be stopped."

"Yes…how very noble. But what's the real reason?" He turned to face Harry.

"The real reason?"

Snape sneered at him. "Come on, Potter, don't be a fool. You know what I mean."

Harry nodded slowly. Hermione. "I'm not going to stand back and let him do this to her…Whatever it is he's doing…" he added. He looked at Snape questioningly.

Snape merely glowered at him from behind his greasy hair. "And you think you can save her, like some pathetic knight in shining armour?"

Harry gritted his teeth. This wasn't the time to rise to Snape's baiting.

Snape stormed towards Harry, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him to the door.

"Well, there's nothing you can do Potter. Nothing at all." He yanked the door open, shoved Harry outside then slammed it shut.

Harry managed to take Snape by surprise and pushed his way back into the room before Snape could lock the door.

"Out!" Snape shouted.

"No," Harry stated simply.

Snape's face turned redder by the second. "I said OUT!" he roared.

Harry knew how dangerous the situation was becoming but he stood his ground. "Not until you tell me what you know about The Breaking."

Snape rounded on him. "Your nerve is contemptible. Wherever did you get the idea that I would be willing to help you?"

Harry moved backwards as fast as he could. "This isn't about me, Professor…" His voice was rising with his anger. "This is about Hermione!" he yelled. "I don't care that you hate me. But don't make Hermione suffer at Voldemort's hands because of it. Not if you can tell me what I can do to prevent it."

"Hate you?" Snape spat. "I despise you!" He lunged for Harry.

"No!" Harry roared. He leapt away and whipped out his wand, pointing it at Snape's enraged face.

Snape eyed him furiously but stayed where he was, turning slightly so that he faced Harry head on.

"Tell me what Voldemort is doing to Hermione, and what I have to do to help her."

"Or what?" Snape sneered. "How do you think the Ministry will react to a pupil threatening a teacher in this manner. Especially considering your history of trouble making. You aren't exactly Fudge's favourite student, Potter. This is just the reason he's looking for to expel you."

Harry's hand wavered slightly. Everything Snape said was true.

But if it came to a choice between Hermione's safety, or being expelled… "Are you prepared to take that chance?" Harry replied with quiet determination.

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't mess with me, Potter. If you haven't learnt that by now then I'll make certain you do soon."

"I'll look forward to it."

The door flew open making Harry jump. In the blink of an eye, Snape had produced his own wand, and it was now pointing directly at Harry's chest, a fiery orange glow emanating from the tip.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, surveying the scene. He sighed.

"I was afraid this might be the outcome. I had hoped for better…from both of you." He glanced meaningfully at Snape. "Put your wand away Mr Potter."

Harry, his eyes fixed firmly on Snape, slowly lowered his wand and slipped it back into his robes.

"And you too, if you please Severus."

Snape glared at Harry but he too replaced his wand.

"Now, gentlemen. Perhaps we could handle this as adults."

Snape turned to Dumbledore. "A word, Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Would you mind Mr Potter?"

Harry stared at the two men, reluctant to leave. But then Dumbledore caught his eye and glanced toward the door.

Snape waited for the door to close on Harry before casting a silencing spell. He turned to Dumbledore.

But before he could speak, Dumbledore said, "I must apologise to you, Severus."

"You were given that book on the condition no one else would see it."

"Indeed. That is what I must apologise for."

"And that it would be kept under Madam Pince's strict supervision, with nothing to link it to me." Snape contained his anger well.

"I must also apologise for that." Dumbledore waved his hand for Snape to take a seat. Snape declined.

"He needs to know Severus."

Snape stared at a cobweb on the ceiling. "No."

"I'm sure if you told him it would go no further."

"No? He would tell the Weasley boy. And he in turn would tell his whole cursed family. In a matter of days the whole school would know."

"I don't believe that for a second Severus. But if you would prefer we can use a _lingua necto _spell. Then he would be unable to tell anyone at all."

Snape didn't answer.

"Would that be agreeable to you?"

"I do not want that…that _boy _to have any knowledge of my history."

"Severus," Dumbledore sighed patiently. "This is only the third time in history that the _aeturnus eternus excessum-vita vinculum _spell has been attempted. There are no records other than the ones you and Voldemort have of the first attempt."

He laid a hand on the book in front of him. "It has proved helpful. But you…"

Snape looked at Dumbledore.

"You witnessed the second attempt."

"Witnessed?" Snape snapped bitterly. "I _took part _in it…!"

"Your knowledge, your insight, will prove invaluable in preventing Voldemort another attempt," Dumbledore continued, acknowledging Snape's interruption with a nod.

He studied his Potions teacher carefully. "Do you want Voldemort to achieve immortality?"

"Of course not!" Snape hissed.

"Forgive me once more, Severus. I should not have asked that, knowing the answer already."

Snape turned away. He strayed to the door and gazed out.

Harry was sat against the damp, slimy wall opposite, head back, eyes closed.

Dumbledore watched Snape as he studied Harry.

"Don't let your feelings for his father, and indeed Sirius Black, cloud your judgement," he warned.

Snape shook his head. "That isn't it," he muttered.

He saw Dumbledore's reflection in the glass raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"You have the chance to put things right Severus," Dumbledore said softly when Snape failed to elaborate.

"I tried," Snape whispered.

Dumbledore rose and joined Snape at the door. He placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder.

Snape flinched at the touch and his face hardened.

"Why should I give _him_" he nodded at Harry "the chance to do what I couldn't?" His voice was harsh.

"Because," Dumbledore replied, "Hermione Granger is as innocent as your sister was…"


End file.
